Tokoharu
by tath-chan
Summary: Syaoran is a cold, lonely prince Sakura is a warm, cheerful peasant girl. Perhaps opposites really do attract, or perhaps they're not truly opposites after all... Request fic. AU!
1. Touki

_Okay, first of all, I want it known that this is not the kind of story I would ever have come up with on my own. It was requested anonymously __on LJ and I undertook as a sort of challenge. I only mention this to warn you all in case it turns out really bad. I'm out of my element! _

_That said, I tried to make it as creative and different as I possibly could, and I hopefully I have succeeded in that, at least. I've outlined six chapters total (darn thing started out with just 3 chapters, but it multiplied…), and this first one is probably not indicative of the length of the others. Some will be long, some not so long; I know some readers dislike one or the other, so I'm sorry to say that I'll disappoint you either way. I hope you'll bear with me though._

_As always, there is no BL intended or implied. Thank you to the anonymous person XD __for requesting it, and I hope everyone enjoys! Please do let me know what you think, since - again! - I'm feeling out of my comfort zone here. XP;;;_

**Disclaimer: **_I only wish I had CLAMP's talent. All recognizable Tsubasa characters and settings belong to them; everyone and every_where _else is mine._

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**Tokoharu :: Everlasting Spring**

**Chapter One :: Touki**

The snow had been falling for hours now. Syaoran thought that there was something vaguely hypnotic about watching the flakes flutter weightlessly down, blown about by the occasional violent gust of cold North wind that rattled the windowpanes from which he was watching. He had long ago stopped reading the book that lay open in his lap as he sat, legs curled beneath him, on the cushioned windowseat. Even with the fire that was blazing away in the enormous fireplace to his right, the stone walls of the Palace did not retain heat well, and Syaoran pulled his thickly-lined dressing robe closer around his shoulders, shivering.

He really ought to be doing something productive. He was the Crown Prince, after all, set to take the throne as soon as he reached his majority at sixteen, which was just a few months away. Syaoran was sure that there were plenty of important things that he should be doing right now, and normally he wasn't one to shirk his duty. But he wanted to indulge himself just a moment longer, to sit here quietly and watch the snow before the afternoon lessons and meetings called him away. He reassured himself that Father wouldn't have minded, but that thought only brought with it a keen pang of grief and guilt.

It had been just over a week since the King's sudden and mysterious death, only a few days since the funeral. Syaoran had kept himself constantly busy since then, trying to keep his emotions at bay, but today he was too weary to make the effort. He wouldn't cry, though. He hadn't cried since the night his father died, and he swore that he would not do so again until he uncovered the truth about the King's death. It had been given out that King Fujitaka had passed away due to an unknown illness, but Syaoran had his own suspicions. There was no way Father would have succumbed to something so trivial…

A knock at the door jolted Syaoran from his thoughts with a start. Schooling his expression to hide any evidence of his thoughts, Syaoran turned to the doorway and called, "Enter." A servant dressed in the red-and-white livery of the Royal Family came in and bowed elegantly. "Her Majesty, the Queen Regent, requests your presence in the withdrawing chambers of her apartments," he said blandly. "She wishes to speak with you regarding the engagement gift you will be sending the Princess of Xiang.

Suppressing a sigh, Syaoran set the book aside and stood reluctantly, removing the dressing robe and folding it neatly upon the windowseat. He nodded for the servant to lead the way, and followed him out of his chambers and through the numerous rooms and hallways that led to his mother's. His sturdy thigh-high boots echoed off the stone walls and floor, drowning out the softer tread of the servant's soft leather shoes, and Syaoran tried not to think of anything else but the steady sounds of his own footsteps.

All too soon, they were standing before the double doors of the Queen's apartments and the servant was giving one sharp knock. His mother's voice drifted through the wood, mellifluous as ever as she bade them enter. The servant bowed briefly to Syaoran and pulled back on heavy door for the Prince, coming in behind him and letting it fall gently shut. "His Grace, the Crown Prince," the man announced unnecessarily.

Queen Emi turned as they entered with a rustle of skirts and soft jingle of jewelry. As always Syaoran was struck by how exquisitely his mother's name, meaning "blessed with beauty," suited her; even in the somber black of mourning, she was stunning and he understood why his father had fallen in love with her at first sight. She smiled disarmingly as her eyes landed on him. "My dear!" she cried, coming forward to take his hands in her own and offer her cheek for him to kiss. She glanced at the servant hovering by the door. "Thank you. You may go." The man bowed and Syaoran barely heard his quiet exit.

"Darling, you look pale," the Queen murmured, trailing the back of one perfectly manicured finger down his cheek. Syaoran resisted the urge to flinch; he loved his mother, but since his father's death he hadn't been able to feel at ease with people touching him, even her. She didn't seem to notice, however, but she took her hand away from his face and instead grabbed his arm, gently pulling him over to the table she had been standing by when he'd come in.

"This should distract you from your melancholy," she said gaily. She gestured to the jewelry that lay spread out on the table, glittering in the light of the many candles in the room. "Now, my dear, you are well overdue to send the Princess a proper engagement gift. I think it best if you send her no less than at least two necklaces and two bracelets, and perhaps a pair of earrings as well. I've narrowed the selection down considerably, but now it's up to you, Syaoran. You ought to get used to picking out jewelry for your beloved, after all." She laughed lightly.

Syaoran opened his mouth to speak, but Emi carried on, launching into a detailed comparison of each piece that he could barely follow; all the jewelry looked largely the same to him, and besides, he was hardly in the mood to examine them right now. After a few more attempts to interrupt his mother's speech, Syaoran finally grabbed her hands. "Mother!" he said, more sharply than he'd intended. When she stopped abruptly and looked at him with hurt showing on her face, he felt a sharp stab of guilt and softened his voice. "Mother," he repeated, "I thought that negotiations for the engagement were not going to be continued until our mourning period is over. It's only been a week."

The Queen glanced away, twisting the heavy wedding band on her finger. "These are not negotiations," she said after a moment, making an attempt at a smile. "They are merely assurances of our good faith."

"Mother…"

"Remember, Syaoran, Xiang is both larger and far more powerful than our little kingdom. This alliance is necessary to ensure the safety and prosperity of our people, so it is your duty as the future King to see it through." She was regaining her levity as she spoke words that Syaoran had heard dozens of times before. "Besides," she went on, smiling more fully now, "you have no reason to complain about Princess Li-Mei. She is a lovely girl, if her portrait is truthful. It certainly should be, since the artist is one of the most well-known in the Four Kingdoms…"

She continued for a few minutes longer, with Syaoran nodding and murmuring agreement at every appropriate pause. When she had finished, he dutifully picked out the jewelry and then made his escape as quickly as he could. He headed for the Great Hall, sending a passing servant to fetch his cloak and riding gloves. If the mood now set for the morning was any indication of the way the rest of the day would be going, Syaoran decided that he would have to take every available opportunity to get away for even a few minutes if he expected to keep his composure intact.

The servant returned with the cloak and gloves, and Syaoran dismissed him to his other duties when he would have helped his Prince into them. As Syaoran pulled the heavy fur-lined cloak over his shoulders and fastened the elaborate clasp, a voice spoke up behind him, echoing in the large, empty Hall. "Your Grace."

Syaoran whirled to see Jiro, his mother's newly appointed Grand Chamberlain and advisor, striding towards him. He was a tall, thin man with grey hair and sharp dark eyes. That hawkish gaze was fixed up Syaoran now, even as the man bowed deferentially. "Lord Chamberlain," the Prince returned coolly, tensing. He detested this man and they both knew it.

Jiro smiled humorlessly. "Might I inquire as to where you are going, my lord?"

"You may not," Syaoran replied tersely.

"The Queen will wish to know, my lord."

Syaoran turned on his heel and strode towards the massive oaken double-doors at the Hall's end, responding over his shoulder. "Tell my mother that I will be back in an hour or two."

He did not wait to hear if Jiro replied, motioning for the guards beside the doors to open them. Despite his layers of thick clothing, the gust of wind that blew against his face when he stepped outside was still shockingly cold, and he hurried to the relative warmth of the Royal Stables. The grooms knew their Prince's habits very well, and he did not even need to tell them which horse he would be riding; they had his favorite, a tall grey called Ginrei, out and saddled in a few minutes, and one of the newer boys shyly handed him the reigns. Syaoran nodded and thanked him gravely, for he felt more comfortable with the stablehands than perhaps any of the other servants in the Palace.

Mounting easily, Syaoran urged his horse into a brisk trot across the stableyard and down to one of the smaller side gates that led out of the Palace grounds. The guards saluted him stiffly, also familiar with his routine, and pulled open the rod iron gates to allow him through into the city.

Syaoran slowed Ginrei's pace only a little as he navigated the cobblestone streets of the capital city, mindful of the townspeople hurrying to get out of his way and bow deeply in respect. He returned their obeisance with nothing more than a nod and a wave, intent on getting out of the city as quickly as he could.

As soon as he was beyond the city walls, Syaoran kicked Ginrei into as swift a pace as the horse could safely manage in the deep snow and mountainous terrain. He kept along the narrow, rocky path that wound through the mountain pass and into the valley where the capital city was situated. Since the weather kept most travelers away, he met no one on his way.

The Prince did not slow until the Palace was hidden from his vision by the dense pine forest that surrounded the trail. Only then did he finally allow Ginrei to slow to a walk, no doubt to the horse's relief, for the snow here was up to the animal's knees.

The forest was completely still, for the wind had died down for now and the snow continued its silent, steady descent to earth undisturbed. Syaoran realized that he was gripping the reigns tightly, and forced himself to relax, letting out a slow breath. He was overreacting, he knew. He should not allow himself to be so angry and hurt by his mother's obsession with the engagement. She was correct, the kingdom really did rely on the alliance, and perhaps he was just being stubborn by trying to put it off until the mourning period ended.

"_Never be in a hurry to get angry," _his Father had often said. Syaoran wished that he had his father's wisdom and ever-present calm. More than that, though, he wished that his father was still here to _give_ that wisdom and calm. He would have smiled, as he always did when Syaoran was acting childish, and then he would have reprimanded him gently. _"Now, Syaoran," _he would have said, _"you have to stop and think things through. Nothing is as simple as it appears, nor as complicated as you might fear. If you let yourself get carried away with your anger, you won't ever get to the truth of the matter."_

Syaoran sighed, his breath pluming in the air. "Father…" he murmured. _I miss you. _

Suddenly he was brought out of his thoughts when Ginrei stopped short, tossing its head. Syaoran leaned forward and patted the horse's neck. "Ginrei," he said softly, "what's the matter?" He nudged Ginrei's sides lightly with his heels, but it refused to move. Puzzled, Syaoran slid easily from the saddle and into the snow that went up to his thighs, keeping the reins in his hand as he tried to see what had alarmed the horse.

It wasn't hard to spot: a foot or so ahead of them something lay in the snow, itself only covered with a light layer. Confident that Ginrei would not stray, Syaoran dropped the reigns and moved forward as quickly as he could. When he crouched down to investigate the figure, its human shape became obvious and he was half-afraid of what he'd find as he brushed off some of the snow that covered it. A small human shoulder, clad in soft blue wool, was revealed. It did not take much work to uncover the rest of the body, which turned out to be that of a young girl perhaps only a little younger than Syaoran himself. A peasant by her clothing, she lay completely still and apparently lifeless.

Syaoran sat back on his heels with a little gasp of dismay. He felt sick as he pulled off one glove and held it in front of her barely parted lips, which held a discouragingly bluish tinge to them. After what seemed like a small eternity, he felt it—the ghost of a breath against his skin. Syaoran's shoulders slumped with relief. He tapped her cheek gently, picking up one small hand and chafing it gently, shocked at the iciness of her fingers. After a moment, he was rewarded with a faint moan, and the girl stirred weakly.

Assured that she was still alive—for the moment—Syaoran decided in an instant that he was not going to let her die. He quickly unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders, shivering in the bone-chilling cold, and wrapped it snugly around the girl. Lifting her easily into his arms, for she weighed no more than a small child, he hurried back to Ginrei's side.

It took quite a bit of effort to get her up in the saddle, but finally it was accomplished and he swung up behind her. Holding her carefully with one arm, he turned Ginrei back along the trail. He didn't allow himself to consider what his mother's reaction was going to be; he could worry about that when he came to it. Right now he was just going to concentrate on saving this girl's life.

Holding her more closely to him, Syaoran urged Ginrei more swiftly down the path towards home, and warmth.

_:: to be continued… ::_

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**Glossary:**

**touki :: **winter

**Kanbai :: **the name of a plum tree that blossoms in the winter

**Xiang :: **Chinese, meaning "auspicious"

**Emi :: **"blessed with beauty"

**Li-Mei :: **Chinese, meaning "black plum"

**Ginrei :: **silver bell


	2. Sekisetsu

_Here we go, chapter two! My apologies for being a bit late; I had a nasty headache all day yesterday that kept me from getting on the computer to type, so it couldn't be helped. Hopefully next week's chapter will be on time, though! And longer, sheesh. I can't believe this ended up so short. owo_

_Hugs and thanks to all who reviewed! There's nothin' like feedback to encourage my muse to work faster. _

**Disclaimer: **_I only wish I had CLAMP's talent. All recognizable Tsubasa characters and settings belong to them; everyone and every_where _else is mine._

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**Tokoharu :: Everlasting Spring**

**Chapter Two :: Sekisetsu**

Syaoran's entrance into the Palace could hardly have been more dramatic if he'd tried. Having dropped off his horse with the astonished grooms, he had burst through the double-doors of the Great Hall, still carrying the girl in his arms and refusing assistance from the flustered servants who flocked around him. Melting snow dripped from his hair and from the heavy cloak wrapped around the girl, while his boots trailed muddy slush along the polished marble floor with each long, brisk stride.

To his left and further down the Hall, his mother was just emerging from the wide main passageway that led to the rest of the Palace, surrounded by servants and speaking with a tall, slender man with pale blond hair. Several of the servants following them were clad in the same blue and white that he wore, which Syaoran knew as the livery of some neighboring kingdom, but at the moment he could not bother to try and recall which one. Both the queen and her companion looked up as he entered and Emi stopped short, lips parting in shock as he approached.

"My dear!" she gasped, raising a white hand to her mouth with a tinkle of delicate bracelets. "What on earth—"

"Not now, Mother." Syaoran cut her off, hating the rudeness but feeling ever more urgency on behalf of the girl he carried. "Forgive me, but this girl is near death and I must find Gensai-sensei."

The Queen gaped at him for a moment, but when he continued past her, heading for the hallway through which she had just come she quickly recovered her voice. "Syaoran," she called, starting after him, "just who is that girl? What are you thinking, bringing some unknown girl into the Palace when you're engaged—"

"Mother, _please,_" said the Prince, trying to remain civil despite his impatience. "Not now. I will explain everything later, after the girl is tended to." For the sake of efficiency, Syaoran beckoned to two of the servants hovering nearby, and sent one to fetch the Royal Physician. The other he instructed to come with him and prepare one of the guest chambers. As the first servant hurried off and Syaoran started to follow, he was stopped once again by his mother's voice, but it was authoritative now.

"_Syaoran_."

Gritting his teeth, Syaoran stopped. Carefully, he passed the girl into the arms of the second servant. "See to it that she is cared for," he commanded quietly. "I will be there soon." The servant nodded wordlessly and hurried off, and reluctantly, Syaoran turned to face the Queen. "Yes, Mother?" he asked with deliberate coolness. "What is it?"

Emi now stood between him and the blond man, whom both ignored now. Her sharply beautiful face was pale with anger, and she was twisting the wedding ring on her finger. "My dear," she began with a poor attempt at lightness, "I really must know the identity of this girl, since you insist on bringing her into the Palace. Where did you find her?"

"I don't know who she is," Syaoran replied shortly. He did not want to stand arguing with her now. "She was on the mountain pass outside the city, lying in the snow."

The Queen tapped a perfectly manicured nail against one arm. "This is absurd," she said sharply. "There are any number of inns around the city where you could have left her. What were you thinking, bringing some unknown _peasant_ into the Palace?"

Syaoran had had enough. "Mother. As I said, she is near death. It would be dishonorable not to make sure that she is cared for. I think," he added with just the hint of a humorless smile, "that Father would agree." Emi blanched. "Now, if you will excuse me, I will go see to her." When she remained speechless, he bowed stiffly and turned on his heel to hurry down the hallway.

It took a few minutes of searching, but Syaoran finally found the guest chamber where the girl had been placed. It was one of the smaller ones, he noticed with annoyance, but he could trouble about that later. He pushed open the door, surveying the room in a glance. The girl was tucked into the large four-poster bed, pale enough to match the white silken sheets around her. A servant stoked a large fire in the grate on one wall, and the Royal Physician, a stooped old man whom Syaoran had known since childhood, was sitting on a stool at the bedside. He did not look up at the Prince's arrival, steadily continuing his examination.

Syaoran hurried to the doctor's side. "Gensai-sensei, how is she?"

Gensai still did not look up from his work, but he replied with his usual undertone of peaceful good humor. "She does not appear to have any broken bones or external injuries, at least," he said. "She seems to be unconscious due to exhaustion, not exposure. She was dressed quite warmly, which probably spared her from any serious frostbite." At last he sat back and met Syaoran's anxious gaze. "As soon as she awakens she should be given warm, sweet tea—I shall leave you with some—and she ought to be _kept_ awake, to be safe. In the meantime, hot water bottles should be fetched and tucked around her to help get her warm more quickly."

Syaoran nodded, attentively taking mental notes. "I will stay until she wakes up," he volunteered.

The doctor glanced at him, raising one gray eyebrow. "Syaoran-sama," he said, not unkindly, "you must change out of those wet clothes and get into a warm bath unless you wish to be worse off than she is." When Syaoran would have protested, Gensai chuckled gently. "You are shivering, my Prince."

A glance down at his hands—he was missing one of his gloves, he realized absently—forced Syaoran to reluctantly agree. "But I will return as soon as I can," he promised. Gensai assured him that he would leave his capable assistant with her until then, and respectfully shooed the Prince out of the room.

Sinking into the warmth of the bath, Syaoran finally allowed himself to stop and consider his rather uncharacteristic concern over the girl. The easiest explanation for it was that he was simply reacting to the vulnerability of a young girl alone and unable to care for or protect herself. This was certainly true, but it wasn't the only reason. If he were truly honest with himself, he knew what the truth of the matter was: that he felt as though he was getting a second chance after his father's death, for which he still felt as much guilt as grief. He had been unable to do anything to save the King, but he had saved this girl's life already.

Syaoran sank further into the warm water, tipping his head back to watch the steam drift upwards. "Father…"

After a few silent moments of contemplation, Syaoran shook off his brooding thoughts and ducked his head quickly under the water. Second chance or not, the girl needed care now, and he had promised to return. He hurriedly finished his bath and dried off, changing into a more casual tunic and trousers. Heeding the doctor's concern over his own health, he forced himself to dry his hair before heading for the girl's room.

There he found the girl still asleep, and the fire was now crackling warmly in the hearth where a tea kettle was hanging. Gensai's assistant, a young man called Rikichi, was seated on the stool by her bedside, reading. He looked up at Syaoran's arrival, marking his place in the book and setting it down in order to bow respectfully. Syaoran nodded in reply, coming over to the bedside. A tray had been placed on the nightstand, he noticed, with what looked like a jar of tea leaves and two cups.

Syaoran turned brown eyes upon the pale figure on the bed, and frowned to find her shivering. "She seems cold," he said, voice sharp with concern and a little anger.

Rikichi smiled reassuringly. "The shivering is natural, my lord," he said. "It means she will be waking soon."

Relieved, Syaoran relaxed and for the first time since he had found her, he took a moment to observe the girl. She had a small, delicate face, ghostly pale except for a faint flush across her cheeks. He wondered briefly what color her eyes would be when she opened them, and as he considered that he noticed that a wayward strand of soft orange-brown hair had fallen across them. Without thinking the Prince reached down and gently brushed it aside, fingertips just barely touching skin that was warm despite her trembling.

The sound of Rikichi clearing his throat softly brought Syaoran back to himself with a start, for he had forgotten that the man was still there. He blushed and jerked his hand back. Rikichi said nothing, but smiled knowingly.

Trying to recover his poise, Syaoran straightened and turned to the physician's assistant. "You may leave now," he said curtly. "You or your master will be sent for if there is need."

Rikichi chuckled softly to himself, but bowed his acknowledgement. "She should be waking in a few minutes, I think," he said as he collected his book. "The tea water should be hot by then. It's ginger with honey."

"Thank you," said Syaoran, and he meant it. He did like the man.

Rikichi smiled once again and let himself out quietly.

With a soft sigh, Syaoran took the assistant's place on the stool at the bedside. The room was silent except for the faint rattling of the windowpanes in the wind, and the popping and crackling of the fire at his left. At first Syaoran sat perfectly still, thinking of nothing in particular and enjoying the quiet, but as the minutes ticked by he found himself fidgeting restlessly. Glancing around, his gaze happened to fall upon the girl's hand, lying atop the coverlet and still shivering.

Syaoran hesitated, struggling with himself for a moment, and glanced back at the door to make sure that the room was still empty and the door closed. Then without really knowing why he did it, he reached out and took her hand in his, sucking in his breath at the iciness of her fingers. He chafed her hand gently, hoping to coax a bit of warmth into it, and absently he noticed how small and fragile it looked in his own. His fingers were long and slender, but callused by sword and bow; they seemed impossibly large and rough in comparison with the girl's soft, tapered ones.

The Prince's mind drifted as he sat there, holding the girl's hand and watching the snow fall steadily outside. Darkness was falling swiftly, and the weather had grown worse since that afternoon; he was glad that he had found her when he did. Thinking back to his arrival home, he wondered idly whom his mother had been speaking with earlier. He was grateful that the Queen had left him alone this long, but he resolved to explain things more thoroughly to her tonight. She deserved that much and he had caused a bit of a scene, after all.

Syaoran was so lost in his thoughts that he did not immediately feel the girl begin to stir. Then her fingers twitched within his, and he jumped, startled. He looked down to find her eyelashes fluttering as she struggled to wake. At last they opened, and he was struck by their brilliant, emerald-green color. She blinked a few times, and her gaze wandered hazily around the room before landing upon Syaoran. She stared at him sleepily for a moment. "Where… am I?" she asked in a voice that was hoarse and barely audible.

"You're in the Palace at Kanbai," said Syaoran quietly. "You're safe."

Obviously not yet fully awake, the girl merely murmured, "Oh." She was silent for a moment, and then she moistened pale lips and spoke again. "Were you the one… who saved me?"

"Yes." Syaoran leaned forward slightly. "I am Prince Syaoran. I will make sure that you are safe and cared for here for as long as you need."

The girl smiled weakly and pressed his hand. He blushed again, having forgotten that he still held it, and started to withdraw his own. But she tightened her fingers around it, preventing him from letting go. "Thank... you," she whispered, "Syaoran… sama."

Syaoran was caught off-guard, uncertain of how to react. After a moment he simply squeezed her hand gently. "Would you like some tea?" he asked, a little awkwardly. She nodded minutely, and he carefully released her hand, setting it gently on the coverlet. Glad to have something to occupy himself for a moment while he recovered his equilibrium, he kept his back to her as he fetched the kettle and prepared the tea leaves. As Rikichi had said, the water was hot but not scalding.

While he poured it, Syaoran broke the silence. "You're lucky that I found you when I did. The wind is howling out there now; the mountain pass will probably be completely blocked by morning." He paused, thinking. "What were you doing up there, anyway?"

The girl mumbled something unintelligible, and Syaoran turned just as she began coughing violently. Alarmed, Syaoran dropped the newly-poured cup of tea to the floor as he rushed to support her through the fit. When it had passed, he pushed her gently back against the pillows, biting his lip when he saw that she was unconscious once again. Laying the back of his hand to her forehead, he found it worryingly hot, yet her shivering seemed to have increased.

Tucking the blankets securely around her, the Prince rushed to the door and threw it open. The two guards outside straightened hastily and stood to attention. "Fetch Gensai-sensei at once," Syaoran ordered swiftly, voice made sharp with concern. "Tell him the girl has worsened. Hurry!"

_:: to be continued… ::_

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**Glossary:**

**sekisetsu :: **fallen snow

**- sensei :: **most of you are probably already familiar with it, but just in case: a word meaning "teacher," but as a suffix it is applied to other professions such as doctors, writers, etc.

**- sama :: **another one everybody probably knows: a step up from "-san," denoting greater reverence for the person addressed.


	3. Kaihyou

_Gomen nasai a hundred times, readers!!! I'm so sorry for the delay. The first week was just me being lazy and unmotivated, but the second week I was literally flat on my back for EIGHT DAYS with the flu. For those who've never had the full-blown influenza, I sincerely hope you never do. It is the most miserable thing I have ever experienced. :shudder:_

_So anyway, that's the story. Now on to the chapter! Thank you so much for your patience and support - you guys make this whole thing worth it!_

_:hugs:_

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**Tokoharu :: Everlasting Spring**

**Chapter Three :: Kaihyou**

As it turned out, Syaoran's alarm was justified: the girl did indeed have a fever, which over the course of that night turned into a rather severe chill. Fortunately, however, it did not worsen beyond that and Gensai assured him that provided she was monitored carefully, it was in no danger of doing so. This eased Syaoran's initial panic, but it only increased his concern. Royal duties kept him busy throughout the following days, but he took care to visit the girl at least once a day for an hour or so. Sometimes she was delirious, muttering unintelligibly or even once, to his dismay, crying in her sleep.

The fever did not abate for three days, and the cough lingered a full week. But it was on the fourth day that Syaoran finally learned her name: Sakura. Once she was able to stay awake and coherent, his visits lengthened and they were soon talking for hours at a time. He admitted to himself that she fascinated him; she was so utterly unlike anyone he had ever met. She told him, in her soft, light voice, of her small village far from the capital, of her late father's swordsmithy which her older brother had taken on with the help of her father's former apprentice. "They must be terribly worried," she'd said tearfully, the first day she'd spoken about them.

Syaoran had immediately agreed to her request to send a letter informing her brother of her whereabouts, of course. Her village lay on the other side of the mountains, however, and the pass had been blocked with snow the day after he'd found her. It would probably take two weeks, at least, to reach them by the longer lowland rout, but he'd sent his swiftest messenger.

After a few days Syaoran told Sakura in turn of his own late father, of his mother and his life at the palace. She was terribly easy to talk to, he discovered, and he soon found himself sharing more and more with her, more than he'd ever shared with anyone. Several times, in fact, he had to reign himself in to keep from being dangerously open with her. Despite her smile and her sunny kindness, trusting people was a weakness he could not afford, in his position. It was surprisingly difficult with her, though. He found that he _wanted_ badly to trust her, and resisting the desire to do so grew more challenging each day he spoke with her.

Two weeks had now passed since he'd rescued Sakura, and the days since her awakening had gone by swift and unnoticed with the quiet comfort of their routine to brighten each one. Life at Court was no longer boring and uncertain, and the novel pleasure of having someone to speak comfortably with began to affect Syaoran himself, easing his constant tension and softening his moods. He had never really had a friend before, and even though he knew it was dangerous, Syaoran knew that he had found one in Sakura.

The change in their Prince's manner had not gone unnoticed by the courtiers in the Palace, and he was not surprised when a servant came to summon him to his mother's withdrawing room one morning as he was on his way to visit Sakura. Feeling lighter than he could remember since his father's death, Syaoran was not even annoyed by the request, although he had a fairly good idea of what his mother had to say.

As the servant bowed and announced him, shutting the doors of the chamber behind them, Syaoran's suspicions were confirmed upon seeing the Chamberlain standing beside the Queen. He braced himself, but refused to let his good mood dissipate so easily. "You called for me, Mother?" he said pleasantly. "What is it?"

Emi was twisting the wedding ring on her finger in agitation; it occurred to him that she had been doing that often of late. "Syaoran," she said briskly, "I have news for you."

Syaoran's eyes narrowed at the undertone in her voice—he could not quite place it, but his wariness increased. "What news?" he asked finally, when it seemed that she was waiting for a response.

The Queen straightened and looked him in the eye. "We have received word this morning from Princess Li-Mei," she said. "She has decided to come visit our Court. She will be here tomorrow."

Syaoran realized that he was gaping and hastily closed his mouth, but the shock was still plain on his face. "Visit?" he repeated rather dazedly. "But why would she do that?"

"Her message said that she wishes to finalize the terms of the engagement contract in person."

Syaoran began to recover from his bewilderment, anger stirring faintly in his chest. "But I said that I would not negotiate further until the month of mourning is over," he said, his voice growing stronger by the second. "She can negotiate no terms without my consent, and I will not give it until the end of the mourning period, as I have stated before."

"Syaoran," Emi returned sharply, "you have no choice in the matter. Xiang is a far more powerful nation than ours, and the Princess is of a volatile temperament. She could raze our little kingdom to the ground in an instant if she wished!"

"Then I shall explain things to her myself when she arrives." Syaoran was firm. "Surely she will understand; she lost both parents herself not long ago. I will make sure that she understands that I have no wish to slight her with my decision."

Emi looked at him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and then turned away abruptly. "We will speak of this later. You may go now."

Puzzled but relieved, Syaoran bowed and turned to leave. But as he reached the door his mother's voice made him pause. "By the way," she said with poorly attempted casualness, "when will that peasant girl be leaving? I hear that she is well recovered now."

Gritting his teeth and feeling an inexplicable flicker of defensive anger on Sakura's behalf, Syaoran replied over his shoulder. "Her name," he said evenly, "is Sakura, and she will be staying here until the mountain roads are cleared enough for her to return home."

Emi sniffed in distaste. "Well, you will have to stop spending so much time with her. We have much to do before the Princess' arrival."

Syaoran nodded shortly and left before she could add anything else, shutting the door firmly behind him. As his footsteps faded down the hall, Emi turned to stare at the door with narrowed eyes. "Jiro," she murmured. "Keep your eyes upon my son today. Inform me of his movements." Jiro bowed low in acknowledgement.

Syaoran's boots thudded against the marble floors as he strode swiftly down the hall and away from his mother's chambers. He headed towards the section of the Palace in which he guessed that he would find Sakura, and was proved correct. Still pale but fully recovered now, Sakura had been out of bed since yesterday and had immediately insisted that she do something to earn her keep. Thus, he found her scrubbing the floors of the hallway, clad in the white and wine red dress of the royal maids. He found himself relaxing slightly just upon seeing her.

Sakura was so intent on her work that she did not notice his approach until he stopped just in front of her. She looked up and the surprise on her face quickly melted into genuine delight. "Prince Syaoran!" she cried, jumping to her feet and bobbing a hasty curtsey while she dried her hands on her apron. He had told her repeatedly that such reverence was unnecessary, but she was more stubborn than she looked. "I was hoping you'd come by this morning. What's wrong?" Her smile faded as she noticed the displeasure he had thought he was hiding.

Opening his mouth, Syaoran paused and caught himself. He had been about to pour everything out to her, and the hallway was not the place. He glanced at her, made up his mind, and grabbed her hand, tugging with gentle force. "Come with me."

"Eh?" Sakura let out an involuntary murmur of surprise but did not protest as the Prince led her briskly down halls and through doors until they stepped outside and she found herself in one of the private gardens. It was one of the smaller ones, with just a few dormant rose beds and skillfully trimmed hedges surrounded a little stone fountain at the center. The water was frozen now and the entire garden was covered with a layer of snow that only added to its beauty. Its stone walls, overgrown with snow-dusted ivy, gave the little garden a peaceful, secure feeling and the air was pleasantly cool, sheltered from the worst of the wind.

Syaoran smiled to himself upon seeing Sakura's obvious enchantment, and he led her around the fountain to the little bower set against the far wall. They sat down side by side on the bench and remained for a moment in companionable silence as Sakura continued to gaze around the garden with wonder. "Do you like it?" asked Syaoran at length.

Sakura nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes!" she breathed. "It's lovely! I didn't know there were gardens like this around the Palace."

"This was my father's favorite," Syaoran explained, looking out around the quiet little enclosure and feeling the familiar muted pain of his father's absence. "He used to come out here often to think or to read. I do too, now."

Sakura was watching his face with concern, sensing his mood. But she did not speak, for which he was grateful; after another period of silence he told her about the meeting with his mother, his engagement to the Xiangian princess and her impending visit. Now that he had cooled down somewhat, he understood more clearly what exactly had upset him so. He disliked being caught off-guard, for one thing, and the news was a shock.

The real issue, however, was the fact that his mourning for his father was being ignored. It disturbed him, even though he knew that his mother's logic was inescapable. He realized now that he had expected her to support him in this, since she was still mourning as well; that she did not was somewhat troubling, despite her reasoning. Surely she understood his feelings on the matter—how could she not? He knew for a fact that she had loved his father at least as deeply as he had. It was true that she was not an especially outgoing woman in regards to her emotions, but he could not believe her to be truly as cold as she was acting.

Looking away as he finished his explanation, Syaoran sighed. "I know I'm being childish," he said, "but—"

A light touch to his hand stopped him and brought his gaze around to Sakura, surprised. "You're not childish at all," she argued, green eyes earnest. "It's so soon after your father's death. It's perfectly natural to be upset when you must miss him so much!"

"But," Syaoran protested weakly, "a Prince cannot afford to be—"

She cut him off again with uncharacteristic firmness. "You're a person too, aren't you?" she demanded. "You aren't just a Prince, you're also a human being with feelings and fears just like everyone else! If you want to cry, or get angry, then you _should_!" Her voice softened slightly. "There must be _someone_ here you can trust enough to talk to."

Stunned by her outburst, Syaoran stared at her a moment. "I trust _you,_" he responded finally. As he said it he realized that it was true.

Sakura blushed and glanced down briefly. "There must be others, too," she said. "There are so many people at the Palace!"

Syaoran snorted. "All my father's best men left after his death or were removed by my mother, and they were the only ones I could trust. I'm alone at Court now."

"Well…" Sakura chewed her lip thoughtfully, then brightened. "What about Gensai-sensei? He seems trustworthy. His assistant, too—Rikichi-san."

Syaoran was surprised, but thinking about it he found that he _did_ trust the two. They were perhaps the only servants of his father left in the Palace, but he had rarely thought of them before now. His father had always trusted them, though, and Gensai-sensei had been a friend of the Royal Family for as long as he could remember. "You're right, Sakura," he conceded, smiling at her. "Thank you for reminding me. You see, I _was_ being childish," he added with a slightly sheepish chuckle.

Sakura giggled, and he found himself smiling further at the sound. "Well, maybe a little," she allowed. "But I think that's all right, just for a moment."

Warm, relaxing quiet fell for a little while, broken only by the soft rustling of the ivy in the breeze. Suddenly Sakura startled Syaoran out of his thoughts as she jumped to her feet with a gasp. "The floors!" she cried. "I was cleaning them!" She hurriedly brushed off her skirts. "I have to be getting back before I get in trouble."

Feeling guilty, Syaoran nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, "I dragged you out here just to bother you with my problems."

Sakura threw him a beaming smile over her shoulder. "Don't be silly!" she retorted. "It's never a bother when you want to talk to me. I'm glad you did. Please don't hesitate to come to me again, if you need to. I mean, if you _want_ to. I know I can't really help, but…" Sakura paused, blushing, and finally just shook her head and bobbed a brief curtsey. "Anyway, I really have to go back. Goodbye!"

Syaoran watched her hurry inside with a smile. Somehow, he felt that things were not quite so dark now.

_:: to be continued… ::_

* * *

**Glossary:**

**kaihyou :: **thaw

**-san :: **everyone knows this one, right? Okay. XD


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